Dead Drunk
by Oratorio
Summary: In response to a prompt asking for a story where Shepard dies in an epically stupid way, after saving the Galaxy. This is a silly little crackfic so be warned! Moral of the story: don't shower drunk...


Shepard swears her constitution has changed since the Crucible fired. Perhaps her implants are no longer working, or maybe the damage to her body hasn't mended the way she would have hoped, but she can't handle her alcohol like she used to. That ninth glass of Ryncol is sitting in her stomach like a toxic swamp and she can feel her guts churning.

"Commander?" Joker swivelled his chair and frowned at her as she fell in through the airlock, barely able to keep herself upright.

"Joker!" she slurred, plastering a fake smile on her face and desperately trying to pretend everything is normal. "How you? You the best!"

So that's not working then.

"Commander, you're drunk. If I were you, I'd go and sleep it off, before everyone sees you. People talk, you know?"

"Let them," she said, swaying slightly and resting her head against the wall. "I ev' tell you, y'sexy? Beard. Sexy."

Joker sighed. He'd seen people in this state before, but they were usually krogan. This was definitely not in his job description.

"Shepard, do I have to get Traynor to take you to your room?"

Her eyes widened slightly as a hazy recollection of the last time the comm specialist was in her room went through her head. She was sober enough to know that was not a situation she wanted to happen again.

"No, m'going. Bye Joker. Love you," she said, shuffling away and bouncing gently off the walls as she headed towards the lift.

She hit every single button on the elevator console but finally arrived at her cabin at the top of the ship, and not a moment too soon. The churning in her stomach was turning into a tsunami, and…

Oops. She stood in the doorway of her bathroom, looking at the pile of steaming vomit which had just missed her shoes but which was splattered in copious amounts across the previously shining tiled floor. It appeared to be in her hair too, and strings of it were stuck to her uniform. It smelled like the depths of hell, and she should know. She'd been there.

Shepard bent double, wheezing with laughter at the situation she found herself in, before the giggles set off another round of vomiting. If she wasn't wrong, there was also an… issue… at the lower exit also. The increase in stench testified to this being the case. Not to mention she could feel it dripping down her thigh.

Ugh. Okay, she had to get this off her now, before the smell made her retch up her entire stomach. She pulled desperately at her armour, wishing that these buckles hadn't suddenly become ten times more complicated. Several of them broke before she managed to strip off her clothing, her underwear completely ruined and probably her pants too. She kicked it all into a corner, falling on her ass as she did so. She must look a sight, she thought, sitting there drunk and crying with laughter in a pile of her own… fluids.

Eventually she managed to regain her feet, wobbling over to the shower in the corner. She reached for her super strength shampoo to get the puke out of her hair, but in her state she managed to get most of the bottle in her eyes. Damn, that stuff stung! She was used to taking knocks and wounds in battle, but this… she couldn't see, and her eyeballs were burning up. She turned her head up to the shower nozzle but even washing the suds away was not helping. Drops… eye drops… her thoughts were clouded but she remembered having some eye drops somewhere in here…

She took a step back towards the door.

* * *

Grunt was bored. Bored, bored, bored. He considered going out to Purgatory to pick a fight, but remembered how his last night out on the Citadel had gone. Shepard had been so angry with him after that and he had resolved to behave himself in the future, if only to keep her happy.

So as it was her fault he was sitting here doing nothing, Grunt decided, she could keep him entertained. Perhaps teach him the rules of poker, like she kept promising.

The door to her quarters slid open instantly, as if she had forgotten to secure it. Grunt peered inside, not seeing her anywhere. He heard the water running in the bathroom.

"Shepard," he said, taking a step into her room.

"Shepard?"

He peered around the corner into the bathroom.

"Shepard!"

* * *

Chakwas had to use most of the sedative on the ship to calm Grunt down after that, and the rest for herself and the remainder of the crew. Nobody would ever forget the day that Commander Jane Shepard, Saviour of the Galaxy, was found lying stone cold and naked in a pile of her own shit and puke, bleeding out from a head wound after slipping on a patch of vomit and hitting her head on the toilet.

When they put her name on the Memorial Wall, nobody mentioned any of that.

It's best the Galaxy doesn't know.


End file.
